You've got to hand it to George Michael – he’s got some nerve.

For what seems like the past 20 years, he’s lived his life in the public eye, dealing with issues like drug abuse, sexual indiscretions and contract wrangles with the kind of candour only found in soap operas.

And despite all this he’s managed to make some of the most powerful, affecting and, yes, funkiest music on the planet.

If he was a woman, you’d call him a diva.

He certainly took to the stage like one last night, striding on to a huge ovation, borne as much out of the audience’s delight to be in the presence of a genuine superstar as relief that he had made it here at all.

His much-publicised near-fatal brush with pneumonia might have driven a lesser performer to call it quits but with George, you suspect, it’s part of the great journey he’s on to become... well, from the evidence of last night’s uneven performance, he fancies himself as the new Frank Sinatra.

Forget the fact that Michael Buble might have already commandeered that particular high ground, what George wants he normally gets.

His choice of support from the Czech National Symphony Orchestra (as well as some top sidemen) lends him the kind of lush string sounds Sinatra enjoyed with Nelson Riddle. And when he threw around standards like Wild is the Wind, My Baby Just Cares For Me and Brother Can You Spare a Dime perched on a bar stool you fancied he was about to bring on the Rat Pack and scat his way through High Hopes.

Thankfully, he steered away from schmaltz with outstanding versions of some of his own standards. Father Figure, Cowboys and Angels, a stand-out Kissing a Fool and a very touching You Have Been Loved lit up a first half that, despite some highs, never really took off.

But after the break, a deconstructed Roxanne (yes, the old Police number) showed everyone he’s capable of breathing new life into some more modern standards.

It was one of his oldest songs, though, that finally brought the house down. A Different Corner reminded you of what a sensational white soul voice he possesses... and how close he’s come to wasting his talent in the past.

The packed house never regained their seats after this and his encores, including Wham favourite I’m Your Man and Freedom, were greeted like conquering heroes as Michael rewarded our patience for indulging his passion for some odd choices of material (the vocoder used on New Order’s True Faith made him sound like Sparky’s Magic Piano).

His final encore, a sensational version of the Frank Ifield chestnut I Remember You, accompanied by a lone harpist, was a perfect ending.

As fitfully brilliant as he was, you couldn’t help but come away with the feeling that this was a last chance to catch him as the genuine article.

The next time, as with so many ageing performers (Sinatra included) he may just lapse into self-parody.

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